Moments In Time
by Kailene
Summary: Little 'moments in time' in the lives of the Solo-Fel family
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Moments in Time

**Author**: Kailene

**Timeframe**: AU

**Characters**: Jag, OC's, Jaina

**Summary**: Little 'moments in time' in the life of the Solo-Fel family.

**Notes**: As usual, Star Wars and all characters, except the children, belong to George.

xxx

The X-wing and the Clawcraft circled slowly and unsteadily above the choppy, swirling water. Both pilots were weary from a day of battles but they did their best to stick together and to coordinate their attacks; neither willing to give in or accept defeat. They each kept a vigilant eye out for the enemy commander. They both knew that he was as smart as he was sneaky, and would strike when they both least expected.

The fast moving blanket of water struck from behind, knocking both unsuspecting ships into the water below and drenching their pilots. The enemy commander smiled triumphantly. The battle had been long and arduous**, **but now the pilots were just within his reach to capture.

"Surrender." The black haired man looked down at the drenched pilots, his guard still up, waiting for them to make a move.

He knew they would, they always did. This time, though, he would be ready. He would capture them both.

His hair and clothes were disheveled from the previous melee and fatigue had begun to settle in. He couldn't let his tiredness show. He knew they would seize upon any weakness and use it to their own advantage, and the battle would begin anew.

The downed pilots, huddled together as far from the commander as they could possibly get, looked at each other. A silent, unspoken decision passed between them. Defiant brown eyes and determined green ones turned and met the unwavering gaze of the man standing before them.

"No."

"Ah, so you think you're clever enough to escape?"

"You can't get both of us," the girl challenged boldly, "And…"

"then we'll get away," the other finished with barely a pause in between them.

Given their lineage, the commander had expected nothing less. He knew stubbornness, determination and craftiness were strong traits in both families.

"Well then, you leave me no choice but to bring out my secret weapon."

The first bit of uncertainty flashed briefly in their eyes, and he watched with pride as they tried to quickly formulate a new plan of escape as they scrutinized him. Reaching up, he grabbed his weapon of choice while at the same time extending his leg quickly behind him, catching the door with his foot and closing it.

The drenched and weary pilots immediately seized the opportunity and bound for the door. They were quick, but the enemy commander was quicker and had a longer reach. With a triumphant laugh, he unveiled his weapon of choice .

A thick, oversized, blue bath towel.

Kneeling swiftly, he wrapped it around his three-year-old twins, capturing them as the sounds of squeals and giggles filled the refresher.

"Got you!" Jag exclaimed. "Now, what should the commander of the enemy forces do with his prisoners, I wonder?"

He hugged them close, his fingers finding their sides so he could tickle them through the towel. The twins squirmed in his arms, their high pitched shrieks of laughter growing louder as Jag placed kisses on their cheeks.

He scooped them both up in his arms, releasing another series of giggles and squeals from his precious 'captives'. The sound was the sweetest music to Jag's ears.

Giving the 'fresher a cursory glance, he made a mental damage report as he opened the door and started down the hall towards their bedroom. Most of the water had stayed in the tub this time, and although he looked like he _actually had _gone into battle, this time he had stayed _mostly _dry.

He and Jaina had been spoiled when their oldest had been born. There was no denying Ciara's mischievous and precocious spirit. She certainly had inherited her personality traits from both sides of the family tree. But even she had never seemed to get into the trouble that the twins did on a daily basis.

When they were little, bathing them had been fairly easy. As easy as bathing force sensitive children actually goes. But as they got older, they realized they could affect things with the force, and it had gotten very difficult.

Jag's Corellian pride would not permit him to admit defeat, nor let him turn to the one person who could give him sound advice derived from life long experience.

Han Solo.

The idea of waging mock battles while bathing the twins had come to him one night in an act of desperation. Bringing some of their toy spaceships into the 'fresher with him, he told them that they could be the 'rebel pilots' and 'fly' the ships and he would be the enemy they had to evade. Jag knew that not only would it make bath time easier, it would also help build control and understanding of the force.

But for Jag personally, the idea had yielded unexpected results.

His time with his children was precious, something he never seemed to have enough of. Their bath time game was a time for him to leave the responsibilities of the galaxy at the door and let the little boy inside of him come out to play. More importantly, it was an opportunity to see the wonder of life from the innocent eyes of his children and to take pleasure in the little things that are so often forgotten.

_* I've been putting together photo albums of my kids and started to feel a bit nostalgic at how fast their growing up. So these little 'moments in time' with Jag and his children are a result. The kids and their antics are based on my own three, and though my twins aren't force sensitive, there are days that I seriously question that. Not sure how long this is going to be yet, or where it's going, but it'll be fun to find out. _


	2. Chapter 2

_NOTES: This post picks up right where the last one ended. _

_A little pronunciation guide for those who may be wondering. The name Kia is pronounced Ki, with a long I (the "a" is silent). Ciara is pronounced Sierra, the same as in the mountains. The story that Jag reads to his children before bedtime is a Dutch Lullaby by Eugene Field, I changed one word in the poem, making it fit better for this story. _

_xxxxx_

"All right you scoundrels," Jag said, standing the twins up on the bed. "Time for pajama's."

"Hey," Kia laughed. "That's what Grampy Han calls us!"

Jag chuckled. "Well, he certainly would be the expert in recognizing a scoundrel when he saw one."

Jag picked up Kia, wrapped her in her purple robe and put her on her own bed. Turning back to his son, he grabbed his nightclothes off his dresser and finished drying him. Dagan had already picked out his favorite pair to wear; blazing side by side across the front of the tunic were an x-wing and a claw craft. A life day gift to him from Wedge.

"I can do it, daddy," Dagan said as he jumped off the bed.

"Okay." Jag handed him the clothes and watched as he sat on the floor and wiggled into the bottoms. Standing up he slipped the tunic over his and slid his arms into the sleeves, looking at Jag with a proud expression when he was done.

"You're all backwards and twisted, sillyhead," giggled Kia, jumping on her bed.

Dagan looked down at his clothes and then at his father, a sheepish expression on his face. "Ooops."

Jag smiled down at his son and ruffled his hair. He helped him take his shirt off and handed it back to him to try again. Walking over to the tiny white and pink dresser that stood in the other corner of the room, Jag opened the top drawer and pulled out a small purple nightgown, complete with ruffles on the bottom and a lace bow in the middle.

"Daaaaddddy," Kia drew out, "I can't wear thaaaatttt."

Jag turned around, fighting the smile that wanted to break free at the sight before him. His youngest daughter stood in the middle of her bed, small hands fisted and planted firmly on her hips. Her brown eyes glared at the offending item and then locked on Jag.

Kia was every bit her mother, only in miniature. The resemblance didn't just stop with the long brown hair and brandy brown colored eyes. Kia had inherited all of Jaina's mannerisms; right down to the infamous Solo smirk and the uncanny ability to find trouble without even having to look.

Jag looked down questioningly at the nightgown he still held in his hands. He would be the first to admit that he wasn't one to pay attention to clothes, and on more than one occasion had gotten the girls outfits mixed up, but there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that this was indeed Kia's. He had even bought it for her less than a month before. He checked the size anyway, just to assure himself that it wasn't Ciara's. A muffled voice across the room answered his unasked question.

"It's not pink, daddy." At the sound of Dagan's voice, Jag looked over at his son, who was still attempting to put his shirt back on correctly. Dagan's arms stuck straight up in the air, wiggling around to try and get in either of the sleeves, the rest of the pajama top covering his head.

Jag looked from Dagan back to Kia. Even after all his time around Jedi, seeing the connection that his own children had, the intimate bond they shared, still amazed him.

"Pink you say."

"Pink," Kia exclaimed happily, humming to herself as she resumed bouncing on the bed.

Jag turned back to the dresser, once again opening the top drawer, and rummaged through it until he found a long pink nightgown with a ribbon of lace and flowers sewn onto the hem.

The squeal of delight as Kia jumped off the bed and grabbed the nightgown in a fierce hug, told Jag that he had gotten right on the second try. As he carried his daughter back towards her bed to get her changed, he realized one thing.

Kia may be a carbon copy of Jaina, but his wife would never _ever _be caught wearing anything pink.

"All right, little one." Jag sat on the side of Kia's bed, putting her down in front of him. "Stand still so I can get you dressed."

"I'm not little," Kia replied indignantly. Using her right hand, she slowly started raising the appropriate number of fingers on her left. "I'm three and…" She carefully folded a fourth finger over so only half of it showed."-a half, now." After all, her expression stated clearly, there was a significant difference between being three years old and being _three-and-a-half_. "That's big!"

"Yes you are." Jag reached out and took both of her tiny hands in his, placing kisses on the very tips before leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "But you will always be my little one." He quickly slid the gown over her head. "Even when you are grown up and married."

"Eeeewww." Kia's face was scrunched up as it popped out of the top and she slipped her arms in either side of her nightgown. "I'm not getting married, ever. Boys are yucky!"

Jag grinned and chuckled. "Yes, they are, sweetie. You keep right on thinking that."

Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a brush and a couple of ties. Spinning her around, Jag towel dried her hair and started to comb it out, before splitting it down the middle and braiding either side, thereby keeping it neat and knot-free for the morning. The first few times had been disasters, but he had become quite skilled at braiding hair, even when his subject was squirming and dancing around in front of him. He was sure that somewhere, at some point in his life, he would need to tap into this hidden talent.

"Boy's aren't yucky, Kia," Ciara said as she came into the room. She already had her pajamas on and she had tied her long jet black hair back in a messy ponytail. "Dagan's a boy, so is Cal and you like them."

"Nah uh." Kia glared at her older sister, the look on her face saying that she shouldn't have to explain this because it should already be obvious. "Dagan's not a _boy_. He's my twin. That doesn't count. 'sides, Cal likes _you._" The barest hint of a smile played at the corners of Kia's mouth.

"Cici _likes _Cal," Dagan added, not even looking up from where he was laying on his bed playing a vidgame.

Jag looked up briefly from what he was doing, an eyebrow quirked in interest at what was being said. Now that they were getting older, he and Jaina tried not to step in and settle every little disagreement they had. He kept quiet and simply listened as he gazed at each of his children in turn.

As expected Kia had mischief dancing in her eyes and though Dagan appeared to not be paying attention, Jag knew otherwise. His son was the quiet observer, always listening and taking things in, letting his sisters take the lead while he sat back and weighed all the variables. He knew exactly what to say to get things riled up, while he sat back appearing innocent.

Ciara's arms were crossed in front of her chest, her eyes narrowed as she stared at her brother and sister. Even at the tender age of six, she was a natural leader, the one to turn to when plans went awry. Even though she always tried to find the peaceful solution to a situation, Jag knew she had no trouble sticking up for herself.

"Cici likes Cal. Cici likes Cal," Kia began in a sing-song voice. "I bet she wants to kiss him," she added.

"Yeah," Dagan piped in. "Just like that icky movie that Uncle Jasa and Auntie Tenal watched."

"Do not!" Ciara yelled.

Dagan and Kia both laughed. "Yuck!"

Jag's short, high-pitched whistle brought instant quiet to the room.

He knew that his oldest daughter could handle herself and would no doubt find a way to put an end to the teasing. It was Jag himself who was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He took a very deep calming breath, telling himself repeatedly that his daughter's name and the word 'kiss' in the same sentence didn't mean anything. Cal was a good kid. They were all just children. It didn't mean a thing.

He was suddenly extremely glad that Jaina had insisted he learn some of her relaxation techniques.

"First off," he started calmly, looking at each of his children, he gaze lingering a bit longer on his two daughters, "there will be no kissing." It took everything he had to resist including the word _'Ever' _at the end of that sentence. "Cal is friends with all of you. He and Ciara are closer in age, so they tend to do more things together. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy," came the quiet response.

The boy in question was Caleb Durron, or Cal, as he liked to be called these days. The oldest son of Kyp and Liz. He was a year older than Ciara, and much to Jag's dismay, the two of them were nearly inseparable.

It wasn't that he had anything against the boy; even if he did have an adventurous streak as wide as the galaxy. He was the boy's hold-father and cared for him immensely. He was polite, respectful, and well mannered. Jag told himself he wasn't being overprotective, but this was his daughter. Han's cryptic words to him the day Ciara was born came floating back to him.

"_Congratulations, kid. She's beautiful." Han said, slapping him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you had a girl." At Jag's questioning glance, Han just smirked. "Just wait. You'll understand someday."_

Jag suddenly understood. Everything. Every look and comment that Han had directed at him over the years. He could now empathize with every single one of them.

"Second. Kia. Dagan," he continued, looking at the twins. Kia was running her fingers through the ends of her braids, something Jag knew she did to calm herself when she was upset. They both looked at him with solemn expressions on their tiny faces, waiting for him to finish speaking. "Apologize to your sister for teasing her."

"We're sorry, Cici," Dagan said, eyes lowered. "We didn't mean it."

"Sorry, Cici. We were just having fun." Kia added. "You don't really have to kiss him."

Jag watched as they went off together, skipping and laughing down the hall, all previous hurt feelings forgotten. He hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, as he let out a long sigh. First thing in the morning, he was going to call his father-in-law and get his plans for that impenetrable fortress that Han had designed so many years ago. Then he would start scouting locations deep in the Unknown Regions to start construction.

Following the sounds of giggling down the hall, he found them playing in Ciara's room. He stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, a smile touching his lips as he watched them. The three most precious things to him in all the galaxy. His life was hectic; days and nights seeming to all blend into one another in a blur. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

"All right you three monsters," Jag said, leaning against the door, "time for bed. What story should we read tonight?"

"Princesses ! Space ship battles ! Little Lost Bantha Cub !" Three little voices squealed in unison.

"Hmm, that's quite a list," Jag laughed. "But, considering we can only read one tonight," he ruffled Dagan's brown hair as he went over to the shelf, "how about I pick."

The book he grabbed off the top shelf was battered and worn with age. The gold trim along the edges had long ago started to fray and the cover held very little of its original blue color. On their last trip to Csilla, his mother had given it to him. It had been his favorite story as a child, and he would make her read it every night. He still couldn't believe that she still had it after so many years.

Jag dimmed the lights and sat down in the middle of Ciara's bed, stretching out his legs and leaning against the wall. "Uumph" The air was just about knocked out of him as three small bodies launched themselves across the room and jumped on top of him. Untangling the heap of small arms and legs, he settled Dagan on his lap, then placed Kia and Ciara on either side.

"Mimi Syal used to read this story to me when I was little," he told them.

Kia giggled. "You were never little, daddy."

"Sure I was," Jag laughed softly. "A long time ago."

Wrapping his arms around the girls, he opened the book in front of them so they could all see as he started to read.

_Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night  
__Sailed off in a wooden shoe-  
__Sailed on a river of crystal light,  
__Into a sea of dew.  
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"  
The old moon asked the three.  
"We have come to fish for the herring fish  
That live in this beautiful sea;  
Nets of silver and gold have we!"  
Said Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod. _

_The old moon laughed and sang a song,  
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,  
And the wind that sped them all night long  
Ruffled the waves of dew.  
The little stars were the herring fish  
That lived in that beautiful sea-  
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish-  
Never afeard are we";  
So cried the stars to the fishermen three:  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod. _

_All night long their nets they threw  
To the stars in the twinkling foam-  
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,  
Bringing the fishermen home;'  
T was all so pretty a sail it seemed  
As if it could not be,  
And some folks thought 't was a dream they 'd dreamed  
Of sailing that beautiful sea-  
But I shall name you the fishermen three:  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod. _

_Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,  
And Nod is a little head,  
__And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies  
Is a wee one's trundle-bed._

_xx_

Jaina walked in, the door making a low hissing sound as it closed behind her, and placed her jacket and bags on the small wooden table beside her. She had planned on being home hours ago, but as usual, one more thing came up that just _had _to be taken care of. Jaina took a deep cleansing breath and let it out. The late hours she had been keeping lately had been worth it. She was home now, officially off-duty and unreachable for the next several days.

Everything was quiet. The foyer was dark, the only illumination coming from the vehicles speeding by outside, their lights seeping through the privacy blinds and dancing across the walls. Jaina kicked off her boots and headed down the long hallway towards the bedrooms. She had masked her presence in the force long before coming in, so as not to get the kids excited if they were not yet asleep. Most nights the children were already asleep by this time, but she knew Jag's secret of bending the rules occasionally and letting them stay up when she wasn't home.

Jag's quiet, gentle voice caught her attention and she stopped just outside Ciara's doorway. A loving smile touched her lips as she peered in. Everything she held dear, her entire world was cuddled up on that bed. Jaina held her breath, not moving, mesmerized by the sight as she watched the man she loved with all heart.

_xx_

Jag paused and looked down. From their soft, even breathing he knew that the twins had fallen asleep. Kia had snuggled down, her head leaning on her brother's shoulder, Dagan's head resting on top of hers. He glanced over at Ciara, and she looked up at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and pulled her closer, closing the book and reciting the rest from memory.

_So shut your eyes while daddy sings  
Of wonderful sights that be,  
And you shall see the beautiful things  
As you rock in the misty sea,  
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:  
Wynken,  
Blynken,  
And Nod. _

_xx_

Jag looked up; a small smile coming to his lips as he gazed at Jaina's loving face in the doorway. She pushed herself off the doorjamb and quietly made her way across the room. Cupping his cheek, she leaned over and kissed his sweetly before picking up Dagan and bringing him to his room to tuck into bed. Jag picked up Kia and carefully slid off the bed, guiding Ciara's head onto her pillow where she snuggled in with a sleepy smile. He pulled her blanket up to her chin and then carried Kia to her room.

After tucking Kia in, he closed her door, and headed for the master suite. His gaze found his beautiful wife, leaning against the doorframe, her head tipped to the side as she watched his approach with loving eyes.

"I've missed you," she whispered.

"Me, too, he said softly. "Come here." He entwined his fingers with hers and pulled her towards him. "Let me show you how much."


End file.
